SPOILER: Baby Girl Booth's name is used.
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Brennan cleared away dishes from the table while Booth searched for a clean spot on Christine's bib and wiped away the bits of peas and mashed peaches she'd somehow managed to smear from chin to forehead. And into her hair, he noticed, as he dabbed at the orange goo clumped into the wispy cocoa-colored curls. "Somebody needs a bath," he teased his daughter playfully, leaning in close to rub her tiny nose with his and earning the reward of two dimpled little hands transferring more of her dinner onto his cheeks as she patted his face happily. "Okay, two somebodies," he chuckled, grabbing for her hands to wipe them clean. She managed to pull one free and let out an ear-piercing shriek as she grabbed for the mostly empty bowl in front of her and sent it falling over the tray of her high chair to the floor.
"It's unfortunate that sound is the only one she's learned to create consistently," Brennan laughed, bending down to clean up the mess the baby had just made. Seeing her mother's dark head within reach, Christine reached out with one still sticky hand, grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled it toward her mouth. "Ouch! Owww!" Brennan stood involuntarily as the baby tugged her up.
"No, no, no, little Chrissy girl," Booth laughed as he tried to open Christine's fist and free Brennan. "We don't eat Mommy's hair." He gently pried her fingers apart and plucked away the few strands that stuck to the dried food, laughing louder at Brennan's face when she reached up to assess the damage to her scalp and pulled away a gob of their daughter's dinner. "Now three somebodies need baths!" He pulled the baby free of her high chair and settled her against his chest. "Want me to run a bath in the big tub?" he asked, bouncing Christine as Brennan wiped down the chair. "She likes playing in the water with us."
Brennan glance spoke volumes. "You like those family baths," she retorted with a shake of her head.
"Well, it conserves water." He smiled back even as the heat of his gaze skimmed her body. "Among other benefits."
She laughed and stepped closer. In one smooth movement, she cupped the baby's head, dropped a kiss on her cheek then pressed another one against his lips. "Go ahead. I'll join you when I'm finished in here."
Fifteen minutes later she opened the door to the steamy bathroom, shedding clothes as she closed it behind her. She stepped carefully around the water already splashed out onto the tile floor and climbed into the tub opposite from where Booth sat with the slippery baby girl held securely in his hands as she bounced on wobbly legs, chubby hands smacking at the waves she created, her high-pitched squeal echoing around the room. Over the next few minutes her parents passed her back and forth, lathering tiny toes and rinsing bubbles from dainty curls while Booth teased her in baby nonsense and Brennan spoke to her very precisely. Christine responded by babbling nonsensically, her funny giggle mixing with the screech she'd perfected while she managed to splash and kick even more water from the tub to the floor. She interrupted more than one kiss they tried to sneak in above her head with well-timed arrows of water and once by smacking both of them with soapy hands. Booth wiped his cheek and lifted her high above the water, his laughter turning into a yelp when more than just bath water coursed down her leg.
"Oh! Peeing in the tub - bath time's over!" He stood up and stepped out onto the rug, holding her over the water so Brennan could rinse her off again. While she belted herself into a thick robe, Booth wrapped Christine in a fluffy towel then passed her over.
"I'll get her ready for bed and give her her last feeding for the night," she said, watching with obvious interest as Booth knotted a towel around his waist. He caught her glance and threaded his fingers through her wet hair, holding her in place for a kiss that lasted until Christine's fingers poked against their closed eyes. They broke apart with the same husky laughter.
"I'll clean up in here," he said. "And meet you in bed."
Her daughter powdered, diapered, dressed, fed and fast asleep in her crib, Brennan returned to their bedroom. Hearing Booth still working in the bathroom, she retrieved a couple of sheets from her bag, draped the robe she wore over a chair then slid beneath the covers to wait for him. When he came out a few minutes later, she was comparing the two pages.
"What's that?" he asked, crawling into bed beside her.
She held the pages to her chest and frowned. "My bracket and a copy of the one belonging to Dr. Hodgins," she admitted.
He leaned on one elbow and grinned. "How are you doing?"
She rolled her eyes. "We have the highest scores. Next weekend will determine the winner."
"Oh, really!" His smile grew wider. "Who do you have winning?" She hesitated for a moment. "Come on, Bones. I'm not going to run off to Vegas if you just show me your bracket."
She considered for a moment longer then nodded and laid the brackets on the bed between them. "Dr. Hodgins is ahead of me in points and we both have the same teams chosen from this side of the bracket as two of the last four teams. But," she continued, "we didn't choose the same team to play in the final game." One slim finger traced a line beneath the teams in the center of the sheet. "Dr. Hodgins is so far ahead of me in points that even if the team I choose goes to the final game, he will still win the competition if that team loses." She furrowed her brow and glanced at Booth. "Do you understand that?"
He laughed. "Yea, I got it." He looked at her bracket and shrugged. "You're going to lose."
"What?" Brennan looked from her bracket to him. "If this team . . ."
Booth was already shaking his head. "Nope. None of these teams," his finger tapped against three of them, "can beat them." He tapped twice against the fourth. "And you didn't even pick them to play in the championship."
"I did my research, Booth," she insisted. "There was an entire category about teams who start freshmen and-" He was already shaking his head. "What?"
"They've already played and beaten two of the other teams during the regular season," he pointed out. "The only way they don't win is if they get lost on the way to New Orleans." He lay back against his pillow, his hands folded beneath his head. "Sorry, Bones. You're going to lose."
She huffed and shuffled the papers together, her irritation apparent. "The games have yet to be played. We'll see."
He grinned at her. "Wanna bet?"
Her jaw dropped in shock. "I knew I should not have allowed you to look at these brackets!"
"No," he shook his head and rolled to his side. "I don't mean money. We could put something more . . . personal . . . on the line." His eyes ranged over suggestively.
She looked at him in confusion. "I don't know what that . . . Oh." Her eyes widened. "Oh!" The beginning of a smile curved her lips. "Really?"
"Sure." He traced her arm with one finger, watching goosebumps rise under her skin.
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "What . . . what would we wager?"
His eyes went hot. "Anything you want."
She blinked. "Anything?"
He smiled.
"All right," she agreed, nodding breathlessly. She tossed the brackets to the floor and fumbled in the drawer of her bedside table for a notepad and two pens. "We'll make it official," she said, pulling a few sheets from the pad and tossing them over to him.
He sat up and took the pen she held out. "Official or not," he added, "this is just between you and me. These bets stay here." He pointed his pen at her. "And that means you don't tell Angela."
"Of course not," Brennan shook her head. "I won't mention it." She nibbled on the end of her pen. "Do you know what-"
Booth scrawled one word on his paper. "Oh, yea." He looked at her expectantly.
She paused only a few seconds before her pen flew across the page. With a quick flick of her wrist, she pulled the top sheet from the pad.
"Ready?" They exchanged their bets.
Booth looked from the page he held to the woman sitting beside him. "Really?" he asked, his grin widening when her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink.
She cleared her throat. "That's my wager," she answered primly. She held up the sheet he'd given her. "I thought this was just . . ."
"That's what I want," he interrupted, enjoying the way her eyes sparkled as she looked at him.
"Fine," she shrugged. "I'm going to win anyway."
He grabbed her pen and tossed it, along with the other pen and the sheets of paper, to the floor and pulled her down beside him, his hands roving her body at will.
"We're both going to win, baby."
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So, let's make this fun. I have both scenarios written. If Kentucky wins, Brennan loses. If Louisville, Kansas or Ohio State wins (not going to happen!), Booth loses.
Who are you cheering for? Or I guess I should ask, whose bet do you want to see? :-D